Just a Head Cold
by shiiki
Summary: Apollo SAID he'd just have a head cold, but did you really think the nosoi would let Percy off that easily? Fortunately, Annabeth knows what to do. A look at Percy between dropping off Apollo at Camp Half-Blood and returning on the weekend to save the day.


**A/N** : First foray into PJO! I've only read _The Hidden Oracle_ (well, the whole series, since I went straight through) once, so I may have missed stuff and made some canon bloopers. Also, I was trying to get in more Percy/Annabeth fluff, but they just refused to co-operate. Hope you readers enjoy this anyway!

I missed my mom's 5pm deadline.

That's not really surprising is it? I mean, first I had to sweet talk the NYPD into letting me and Paul's Prius go with just a warning-boy, did I ever wish Piper was around, she probably could have Charmspeaked (Charmspoken? I don't think conjugating verb tenses of mythical magic terms are on the regular SAT, but you never know with the DTSOMPs. Note to self, check with Annabeth) them into not only letting me off but probably providing me with a police escort all the way home. Which would be, you know, way cool and much better than the way I actually got home: stuck in downtown Manhattan traffic for two hours. With a growing migraine.

Did I mention I was sneezing all the way back too? Damn _nosoi_ and their plagues-head colds-whatever. By the time I stumbled into my apartment-a good five hours since I'd left with Apollo and Meg-I was ready to pass out from exhaustion.

Mom poked her head out of her room as soon as I shut the front door. 'Percy, thank the gods-are you okay?'

'Yeah, just peachy,' I managed, but it came out in a mumble.

'You don't look so good,' said Mom, alarmed. 'What happened?' She reached out to touch my forehead. 'You're burning up!'

'Uh, it's nothing, just picked up a bug. Um, well, more of a spirit curse thing, but same principle.' A bit belatedly, I realised it probably wasn't the best idea to expose a pregnant lady to germs and all that. Too late. 'Er, you probably shouldn't come too near, in case I'm contagious or something.'

Mom sighed and turned her eyes heavenward. 'Just once, would it be too much to ask for him to come home without being attacked?'

There was no answering rumble from the skies. My dad isn't really the crackling thunder and lightning displays kind. That's old Zeus's thing. And I imagine Zeus was probably too busy ROTFL-ing at Apollo this whole time to bother with me. He's classy that way.

Besides, her comment wasn't entirely fair, since, you know, I _have_ left the house plenty of times without running into a monster or spirit or some kind of danger. Er, okay, maybe a handful of times in the last five years. Or one hand's worth. Um, a few fingers worth, at least.

And also, I'd made it back every time. I've survived this long. And while feverish head colds are uncomfortable-and pretty rare for demigods, since we don't seem t get sick as often as mortals do-they aren't fatal. Granted, the _nosoi_ 's plague fumes _should_ have killed me, but Apollo said I'd diluted them enough.

Then again, the dude was mortal again and had lost his oracle to boot, so should I really be trusting him to know what he was talking about?

'I'm just gonna, like, go to bed.' I turned to head for my room, but the hallway was suddenly spinning. I reached for the wall to keep balance. A strong hand gripped my shoulder, steadying me.

'I got him, Sally,' said the voice of my stepfather.

'Paul,' I said. The last thought that crossed my mind before I passed out: _at least his car's back in one piece!_

You'd think I'd catch a break from normal dreams when I was passed out. Well, when I say normal, I mean normal for half-bloods, which is very different from the kind of dreams mortals have. Demigod dreams tend to be somewhat more ... intense. And as it turns out, the god of dreams doesn't distinguish between sleep and unconsciousness by fainting.

Who'd've thought? Not me, it's not like I'm experienced with blacking out or anything. You want my buddy Jason Grace for that.

Although now that I think about it, this dream wasn't _exactly_ the usual half-blood kind. Normally when I have one of those, it plays out pretty much in real time (within the dream, at least). I watch scenes unfolding, people talking, stuff happening ... sometimes I even get to talk to people. Just like being awake. This was kind of the drive-by shooting form of dreams. Stuff flashed before me like a movie in fast-forward.

I watched Apollo and Meg stumble out of the woods at Camp Half-Blood, which was at least good news-they'd got there all right. There was a glimpse of Meg with her godly claim sign flashing above her. (I wouldn't have pegged her as a Demeter kid, though I suppose the crazy plant demon-okay, karpos, whatever-should have been a dead giveaway.) Flashes of Apollo in his cabin. That had to be awkward for the guy, being the same age-or younger, in the case of Will Solace-than his own kids. More images, snapshots moving so fast I couldn't make complete sense of them: one of the Hephaestus kids waving a beacon in the night sky, Will Solace leaning in towards my friend Nico di Angelo (okay, I definitely didn't want to make sense of _that_ one. Not that I've got anything against them being gay, but it's a bit awkward given that the guy kinda told me he used to have a crush on _me_ , and even if he hadn't, it's not like I really want to watch them make out). A bunch of mummified bodies burst into flame, lighting up an old city. Apollo waded across a bunch of hills as a giant statue, crushing everything beneath his feet. A flying bronze dragon that I knew well, having spent months with it on the masthead of the _Argo II_ , spewed flames into the air. I lingered on that last moving picture, almost fancying I could see my friend Leo atop Festus the dragon. We'd lost him in the battle against Gaia (long story) and Nico, who being the son of Hades could sense souls passing to the Underworld, had confirmed his death at the time. He hadn't found any trace of Leo in Elysium or even any of the other less upmarket Underworld areas, though. And shortly after, he'd picked up some kind of undeading signal from our friend. Well, he had a more technical name for it, but you get the idea. Leo was out there somewhere, but we hadn't found him yet. I wished this was a regular dream, the kind that might let me connect with him, maybe give me a clue to locating him. No such luck, though. I watched Festus zip across the sky, with no identifiable landmarks around him.

And then I landed on solid group. I found myself standing on a cliff, facing the wide open sea. Correction, I was standing on the _edge_ of the cliff, toes off it, the way Olympic divers line up on the 3m board before they kick off.

'Percy, no-you promised!' A voice floated to me on the wind, one that I would follow anywhere, anytime, but I couldn't stop myself from jumping.

I dived and hit the water head-first. Everything around me went dark as I sank into the depths of the ocean.

I woke to the cool lapping of water against my skin. It was like coming out of a really good nap: that comfortable sensation of having had a decent bit of rest, without the groggy feeling that comes when you've overslept. When I looked around, though, everything was shiny and a bit distorted, sort of the way stuff looks when you open your eyes underwater.

Wait. I _was_ in water.

Or my head was, anyway. I'd been propped against a bunch of pillows so that my head was above my shoulders, and there was a fishbowl sitting upside down over my head. Its opening was sealed off by some sort of rubber that stuck to my neck so that the water couldn't flow out.

'What in Hades?' I spluttered, sending bubbles floating through the fishbowl. My eyes slowly adjusted to the way light filtered through the water and I took in my surroundings through the glass. Fortunately, I was in my bed, in my own room. The orange curtains were drawn, but it must have been either late evening or way too early in the morning, as only dim light shone through the window. My table was pretty much how I'd left it, with piles of SAT and DSTOMP study guides scattered messily about, but instead of a heap of dirty clothes piled on my armchair, a cute blonde was curled up with an open book on her lap. Annabeth must have fallen asleep reading.

I grinned and then blushed, hoping that Mom and not my girlfriend had bene the one to pick up my dirty laundry. Blushing in enclosed water is interesting, by the way. I could sort of feel it getting a bit warm, like my face.

Annabeth stirred in her sleep. The book on her lap toppled off and landed on the floor with a loud thump, and she jerked awake. Her hand dove instantly into her pocket and emerged with her knife swiping the air in front of her.

Here's a hint: never startle a half-blood awake. Or have the bad luck to be near one who's been startled out of sleep. We always come to ready for battle. You're likely to find yourself missing a limb. I was pretty glad to be across the room from her.

Annabeth blinked a few times, then recognising her unthreatening surroundings, she stowed her knife back in her pocket. Her eyes darted straight to me and widened when she saw that I was awake, too. I pushed myself into a sitting position and smiled at her.

'Hey,' I said. My voice sounded normal to me, but I had no idea if she'd hear it garbled through the water. I tried to lift the bowl on my head, but it was stuck good. I tapped the side of it, hoping she'd get the message.

Annabeth got up and came to perch on the side of my bed. 'Hey, Seaweed Brain,' she murmured. She put a hand on my neck, where the rubbery stuff was latched to my skin, then stopped. 'You might want to lean forward. You know, so the water stays in the bowl when I take it off.'

'Oh,' I said. I hadn't really thought about that. Water doesn't bother me, after all. I can stay dry if I want to, as long as I'm thinking about it. 'I wouldn't get wet, you know.'

She gave me a withering look. 'Yes, but you'd wet the bed. Er, you know what I mean.'

I shrugged. I'd learned long ago that it was easier to do what Annabeth said. It's never a good idea to argue with the daughter of the goddess of wisdom _and_ war. The water sloshed around me as I leaned my head forward. Annabeth undid whatever attachment she'd made to keep the bowl stuck on my head. It made a squelching noise as the rubber released my skin. She pulled the fishbowl away and set it on the table, next to _1,000 Practice Tests to Ace Your DSTOMP!_

'Thanks,' I said. My vision was clearer now with the fishbowl gone, but the air about me felt kind of muggy, and my body, which had felt so refreshed before, now had that shaky, just-been-sick sort of feeling.

Of course. Water's as good as nectar and ambrosia for healing when it comes to me. It was why I'd instinctively gone for the nearest water source after the plague spirits had attacked. I realised instantly why Annabeth had locked me in a bowl full of water.

'How're you feeling?'

'Um.' I twisted a bit, cracking my neck. It was a bit stiff from holding up a fishbowl, but all in all, it could've been worse. 'I've been better,' I admitted. 'But I've been worse, too, so all in all, not too bad. How long was I out?'

'It's been a day or so since I got back to save your dying arse. Your mom called me.' Annabeth drew out a handkerchief and dabbed at a wet spot on my chin. 'You still drool in your sleep, by the way.'

'That's from the fishbowl,' I said quickly. 'And I wasn't _dying_ ... did you have to give me the goldfish treatment anyway? Couldn't you just have, like, got me some nectar?'

Her lips twitched as she set the handkerchief aside. 'Your mom tried that already. She and Paul were really worried when you still didn't wake up. She told me about Apollo showing up, and well, I figured it had to do with disease, since healing's one of his domains. The nectar probably helped keep you going until I thought of the water.' Her voice cracked a little on the last word. 'What am I going to do with you?' she said, covering it up with exasperation. 'I can't even go to Boston for a week without you finding a plague to die from.'

'It wasn't plague, and I wasn't dying,' I protested. 'Just a head cold.'

Annabeth raised her eyebrows. 'A head cold strong enough to induce fevers and delirium?'

'Well, Apollo said I'd diluted that nausea-thingy's poison. Wait, delirium? I wasn't ... talking in my sleep or anything was I?'

Annabeth rolled her eyes. 'Don't worry, you didn't say anything I haven't heard before. So it _was_ _nosoi_?' Of course Annabeth would have guessed about them. She knows _everything_. I don't even know why she bothers to study for the DSTOMP. New Rome University was practically begging to throw scholarships at her.

'Yeah.'

She closed her eyes for a second and sighed. 'I'd make you promise not to do anything like that again, but seeing as you nearly broke your promise not to die while I was away-'

'Hey, that wasn't _my_ fault. And I didn't die-'

'Thanks to me.'

'Okay, I'm sorry,' I said. 'I _told_ Apollo I wasn't in the mood for any more quests. But I had to at least get him to camp.'

Annabeth glared at me. Then she took my hand and laced her fingers through mine, which I took as a good sign that she wasn't really mad.

'I know,' she said. 'But don't you dare try to die on me again. Or at least, don't you dare try it without me around.'

Then she leaned forward and kissed me, which was _definitely_ a good sign.

Annabeth stayed the night, but she had to head back to Boston the next morning. Mom looked relieved when I got back from walking her to the bus station, which made me feel guilty for making her worry again. And worse still because I'd told Apollo I'd check on him at the weekend. I wasn't entirely sure Mom would be a-okay with that.

Turns out the decision of whether or not I should check in at camp was made for me, though.

I'd just sat down in my room with a plate of cookies, reluctantly considering my study guides, when a massive hellhound (and I mean that literally since Mrs O'Leary's from the Underworld) leapt out the shadow of my closet. I yelped and stumbled back as she practically bowled me over trying to lick my face. Her wagging tail swept my table clean of its books, my cookies, and the fishbowl that Annabeth had left, which smashed on the floor, dousing my study guides. Cookie crumbs splattered everywhere.

A flickering image flashed above my head, like an Iris-message having a seizure. It was so full of static that I could only make out every third word.

'Bzzzzz ... Nero ... giant statue ... destroy ... Percy ... HELP ... bzzzzz ...'

A scene from my dream came racing back to me: the giant statue of Apollo stomping its way across the hills. The blood drained from my face. I couldn't make out exactly who had sent the message, but only one person could have commanded Mrs O'Leary to shadow travel to me. And I knew Nico di Angelo was definitely at Camp Half-Blood now.

Mrs O'Leary barked, as if to say, 'What are you waiting for?'

Mom wasn't going to be happy. Annabeth was probably going to kill me the moment she found out.

The thing about being a hero is, though, you can try to avoid it as much as you like, but you never really have a choice what to do. At least this time I had a quicker ride.

I grabbed the scruff of Mrs O'Leary's neck and swung myself onto her back. Together, we sank into the shadows.


End file.
